What's on that chopstick?

As I was searching for a much needed means of support regarding my valid, albeit somewhat unforeseen rant, I came across this website.

Although I am certainly the most passionate about this tragedy, I am also certain that there have to be some other forms of intelligent, functioning human beings out there who have at one time or another pondered the same mysteriously irritating phenomenon of sit-down dining.

The ever-so-complex world of Chinese food. I will admit fully, that it was my own horrendous mistake to believe that a "Chinese Buffet" could resemble anything close to mainstream society's perception of a "help yourself" eating establishment. Having said that, my issue is with cutlery - or lack thereof. I'd like to have a few minutes alone with the Harvard Grad who invented chopsticks. There's a high caliber individual at work. I am fully convinced - having been subjected to these wooden monstrosities - that the fundamental purpose of chopsticks is strictly for the viewing pleasure of the restaurant owners and staff alike. If you think they're all sweet and innocent in the back of the restaurant, happily fuckin' around with their freshly slaughtered pig carcass, think again. Looking around at the lovely uses of skin among me, I observed enough chicken fried rice, sweet & sour pork, and ginger beef on the shirts of the patrons to successfully feed a medium-sized third world nation for the remainder of the decade. That is, of course, if the citizens of this country were keen on the universal inside joke behind chopsticks. Upon engaging in further thought, as my chow mien began to turn my white shirt into a lovely kaleidoscope of colors, I also came to the realization that Chinese restaurant owners are in direct collusion with TideŽ.

This got me thinking of how in the blue hell anyone could possibly have missed out on that amazing invention we have come to know and love as The Fork. Chinese people... you know they've seen the fork. Looking back through time, I came across a mental image of a 3 foot tall man with a beetles haircut working on a Chinese farm. Hello! PITCHFORK! There it is! You're not plowing 40 acres with a couple of pool cues! Apparently they do however, because directly following an incident involving a chopstick and a patron's cornea, a lovely little girl wearing my mother's living room carpet began furiously sweeping beneath my feet... with what looked to be a giant pool cue. Upon presenting the idea of forks and other civilized eating utensils to the 3 foot tall man with a beetles haircut (coincidence?) at the front desk, I was so graciously offered the following pearls of wisdom... "Oh no... Visa or Masacad."

Having regained my strength and sanity upon exiting said establishment, I came to the conclusion that not only are Chinese restaurant owners evil little creatures to be monitored closely and carefully, but those good, law-abiding, God-fearing people of America should avoid these houses of horror at all costs, entering only at the expense of their cornea's and their favorite Donna Karan jeans.

-Kim R.

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